Free Burnt Worlds by S.J. Madill Page A

spoke.   On his hands were white cloth gloves much like hers, and her expression softened as she looked at them.   Her eyes met his, and she gestured to the floor just inside the spherical hologram of the Palani sunset.   He stepped forward, nodded once, then stood quietly.   His breathing, calm and even, was visible in the air.
    Turning back to face the altar, she looked around her and took in the sights and sounds of her home.   A lone cloud was passing overhead, and a soft chorus of birds had started their song.  
    Bowing her head and taking a deep breath, she began her prayer.   “ Aas tenala huen yaal Elinth la— ”
    She stopped, raising her head.   Above her, the small cloud kept moving on the wind.   Turning her head to her left, she glanced out of the corner of her eye at the human standing behind her.   He stood still, silent and unmoving, his eyes taking in the Palani vista around him.
    Tassali Yenaara faced forward and bowed her head.   She started again.   “The realm of Elinth begins with the dusk…”

10

    Head Mechanic Saparun Vish continued watching the console for the port engine.   He had been staring at it for almost ten minutes, not making a sound.   His night crew, Anderson and Stewart, were working at the fabricator, discussing the design of an improvised tool they hoped to create.   The ‘apprentice Mechanics’, volunteers from among the crew, had grown to six.   This allowed two of them to be on duty at all times of the day and night, which Saparun thought was quite adequate.  
    Ninety-four, ninety-five… now.   Sap looked at the pressure readout, and watched as it dropped by half a percent.   His green eyes flicked to the field strength indicator, which began to move slightly higher.   In his mind, he began to count again, and eleven seconds later the readings started to return to normal, right on cue.   Unstable injector.   Regular fluctuations in pressure.   Injector will fatigue, then fail.   Engine will take itself offline, but no other harm or threat of harm.   He closed his eyes and leaned back his head, breathing deeply.   Tomorrow.   Maybe the day after.
    He turned his head to look over at his human apprentices.   They got along very well with each other, communicating mostly in a series of jokes and insults.   Large amounts of their informal language revolved around sex and sexual organs, body excretions, and religion.   This seemed to be the case for both positive and negative expressions.   Despite his relatively long time spent working with humans, mastery of idioms remained elusive.   Each nationality, or tribe, of humans had its own uniquely impenetrable set of idiomatic expressions.   Like the encouraging farewell, “Keep your stick on the ice”, which made no sense.   He shook his head.   Anderson was now suggesting that Stewart’s sexual preferences included a domestic animal.   Stewart, for her part, was smiling as she interrupted to escalate the barely-disguised innuendo.
    Saparun listened to a lot of human conversation.   He usually got his meals from the so-called “junior ranks mess deck”.   Not because the food was better, which it wasn’t, but because it was only a few steps from the engine room.   Apparently, human tradition required that the ship’s senior staff use the “wardroom” for its meals, but that was one deck up and, with only three other officers on the ship, it was almost always empty.   He was a practical person, and the lower ranks seemed entirely welcoming of him.   They were comfortable speaking with him, and several had even given him their coffee rations.   In fact, the sight of the Mechanic enjoying his blessed coffee was evidently a source of great enjoyment for the enlisted crew.
    For the past two days, he’d noticed a change in the messdeck conversation.   With the arrival of the Palani aboard ship, the human crew had begun to speak, almost exclusively, of the newcomer.   Some thought her to